Maybe I Just Wanna Be Yours
by Shawtymanex42
Summary: So Kyle and Cartman are just your average couple... Bickering about Ikea curtains, tattoos and expressing their love for each other after three years of dating and two years of living together. Kyman. Rated M for sexual references. Hope you like and reviews are appreciated!


A/N: Something (mildly) cute for you. Probably as fluffy as Kyman can get.

* * *

It began, as most relationships do these days, with sex. Intense, infuriatingly great, passive aggressive sex.

* * *

Every twenty three year old in that club, on that night, was subconsciously resigned to this fact; A possible one night stand held the potential to being "The One", "The Love Of Their Lives" or their "Soulmate". But as you sit by that bar or dance in that crowd, you never for one second consider the possibility that the apple of your eye could be your childhood enemy.

Eric Cartman had not set foot in this club since he was nineteen. But boredom and that human, base desire we all have to get laid convinced him that wasting his money and trying his luck wasn't such a bad idea. After all, he had had so many encounters here. He had his first blowjob in one of the bathroom stalls, when he was underage but had a fake ID and looked older. Good times. Still, four years later and he was starting to think that he had grown out of this scene now. Which seemed ridiculous since he was only in his early twenties. But maybe that was the curse of partying young? You grow out of it quicker.

He wrinkled his nose in embarrassment at the pounding music, the well-dressed men, the scent of sweat and cocktails and the fluorescent leather upholstery (to match the lights of course). Something told him he didn't quite fit in, he was drastically under-dressed to be hanging out here on a Saturday night. Maybe it was part of his charm? Nihilistic, rebellious, all that bullshit...

But as he made his way to the bar, to listlessly order another beer and consider calling it a night, he saw somebody who he was expecting to run into at his high school reunion, not at a gay club on Colfax Avenue.

Kyle Broflovski. Dear fucking God, Cartman didn't even know that Jew was gay, let alone that this was his scene. It was a... Pleasant surprise, to say the least.

Kyle was cradling a Cosmo, leaning against the bar and staring out into the writhing, lusty crowd of sweaty, ripped men with an expression of boredom and malevolence, rousing some kind of indignation and guilty arousal in Cartman. The predatory Jew wore 14 eye Doc Martens and had a single piercing on his full bottom lip. His jet black Levis made his lithe legs look even longer and skinnier than they undoubtedly already were, doing a huge fucking favor for him. Cartman could vaguely remember Kyle having those jeans in high school, though maybe his ass had always looked that good. Yeah, that was a strong possibility.

Kyle didn't dance. Already his chances of hooking up were impeded. Did guys offer to buy him drinks regardless? Sure. But none that Kyle found attractive. He had a type (doesn't everyone?) and yet nobody who resembled his type had offered to pay for his cocktails. Damn, he needed to get laid. Needed to get the stress of his first year at law school out of him by having, what he thought was, the best kind of sex; mind, nay, _bone_ melting, relieving, shameless, scream eliciting, toe curling and leaves you so wrecked and shaken that for a few precious seconds you forget about your student loans, shitty part-time jobs, parental pressures and the new social group you're striving to establish yourself in. Sadly, Kyle doubted he would be granted such ecstasy tonight.

"What do we have here?" A voice that was too familiarly obnoxious. "I had no idea that you were gay, Kahl. Let alone that you're positively flaming."

"Fuck" Kyle mutters. Five years, he'd avoided this prick for five years. It was true, you could take a guy out of South Park, but you can't take South Park out of the guy. No matter how hard Kyle tried, the town would haunt him forever. The anger that Cartman drew out of him in such a short amount of time was the most vivid emotion he had registered in over two months (law school was pretty draining). He guessed he owed Cartman that.

Turning around to make civil, if not snide, conversation with Cartman, Kyle was struck. Not that Cartman was here. It seemed oddly fitting. Rather, he was struck by how unfairly good Cartman looked. And how he could look so good when dressed so casually. Seriously, did he even make an effort? Kyle didn't care because this look was fucking working. Maybe it was his quarterback genes that were helping? His broad shoulders, intimidating height and undeniable puppy fat certainly drew attention away from his ratty converses, pale blue jeans and his band t-shirt accessorized with a plaid shirt. In short, he looked like a slacker. And slackers were, embarrassingly, what Kyle liked. Even the idea of having to buy a dude his own drink because he couldn't afford it turned Kyle on.

"Speak for yourself" Kyle replied "After all, you'd be pretty stupid to think this was a titty bar"

Damn, Kyle looked good in black. Those Docs made him look like a dominatrix.

"Well played, Jewboy" Cartman nodded. Kyle had almost forgotten that old term of endearment. "What's with the lip?"

"Oh" Kyle mumbles, touching his piercing almost self-consciously, controlling that terrible urge to blush. "Just some stupid gesture to solidify my independence when I was finally free from the clutches of Sheila and Gerald."

Rebellious Kyle was definitely hot. "Honestly Jew, I don't ever recall you being a pushover... Or a Butters. Was the lip ring really necessary?"

"A guy has to break the rules, sometimes" Kyle smiles, his tongue gently moistening his lips, catching his lip ring playfully. Knowing that even flirting with Cartman was guaranteed to get him into Hell. But he didn't believe in it anyway, so who cares?

"Please, I fucking wrote that" Cartman says in a tone so husky and serious and so effortless that it makes Kyle feel like he's losing the battle of 'who's the most attractive?'

This wasn't the way you talked to somebody who you haven't seen in five years. Screw small talk. Being so brazenly flirtatious and maintaining an excruciatingly cool distance from each other was better.

Besides, Kyle knew that he couldn't have a conversation like this with anybody else from South Park. If it was Kenny, the blond would have challenged him to a shot contest, asked him for a light or some cash to pay his rent or whatever and if it was Stan they would have regressed into Super Best Friends and would be having a reminiscent, heart to heart.

"System Of A Down?" Kyle asks, peering at Cartman's t-shirt. That didn't seem like a band that Cartman was a fan of. "Do you even know who they are?"

"Fuck no" Cartman answers dismissively, furrowing his eyebrows.

Thought so.

"They're a band, genius" Kyle replies exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, that would explain the list of dates and cities on the back."

Kyle's laugh wasn't adorable. It was bittersweet and mean. Cartman liked that.

"It's a good thing you're cute" Kyle says, soft and suggestive, closing the gap between them. Poking Cartman in the chest before trailing his finger down. His dark, Emerald eyes so perfectly hooded.

"Cute, Jewboy? Really?" Cartman asks, even the way he has to look down to make eye contact with Kyle is making the redhead's motor run.

"In your own fucked up way" Kyle shrugs and when he takes in Cartman's features under the artificial, saccharine lights his breath hitches and his fingers twitch. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"I was kinda counting on it" Cartman smirks.

Kyle bought Cartman a Budweiser. And just handing over his cash to buy Cartman that beer instilled much needed optimism into the both of them.

~x~

Five Cosmos and three Budweisers later, the drunk pair found themselves in the middle of the pulsing crowd that Kyle had once stared so distastefully at. Neither of them could dance, but that wasn't the point. It's an unwritten rule that once you're in the middle of the swarm anything goes, that's why the center is always packed with people getting to second base.

Kyle wasn't surprised when Cartman kissed him. Cartman wasn't surprised when Kyle started to kiss him back. But they had never kissed anybody this way before, so selfish and insatiable, unabashedly demanding more. They weren't complaining, sure, it was a challenge and different but it also felt really fucking good. And really fucking good was what they needed. Everything was aggressive, rough and urgent, like their lives depended on this series of wet, deep, throbbing kisses. They could have softened, slowed down, but neither one of them knew how. Were they even capable of going slow? The sweet finesse of their tongues licking each other open, panting and sweating as they worked each other, drawing out longing, pleading moans with every agonizing roll of their hips as they rocked and thrusted for hours... They wanted to go slow together. Holy fuck, more than anything.

Their breathing was labored, dizzying through their kisses and it killed their pride knowing that they were on fire for each other and how they would do anything to cave in. Obscenities filtered through the gag of each other's mouths, breathless and desperate, pressing their hardened cocks to each other's hips as a blatant gesture for being interested and horny and demanding they have sex now.

After a few minutes, Cartman growled something indecipherable into Kyle's shoulder before dragging him away from the crowd without complaint. They didn't talk. The tight grip Cartman had on Kyle's wrist and his assured, determined stride was enough. Kyle felt emptied, adrift and barely anchored to Cartman, although his thoughts, inappropriate and lusty, were all hooked on that douchebag. It was a filthy, stupid _need. _Kyle hadn't felt that need since high school, where sex was new, exciting and was guaranteed to be fun and satisfying. But the sex he had had in these past couple of years had been stress relieving, bland and self-obsessed. He didn't really care what the other person was feeling, what they liked and what would make them scream... All he cared about was his own climax and whether that person could make it sufficient. It stopped being about two people, two bodies and just about one. And in the long run, that wasn't satisfying at all. It made Kyle feel like shit. But as greedy as kissing Cartman was, his mind was still clouded with him, he wanted him and he wanted to make this good for the both of them.

So when Cartman led him into the guys' bathroom, he grimaced. Before he could say anything, however, Cartman had locked them in a stall and smashed his lips against Kyle's, involuntarily smashing Kyle's head against the wall too. Hating how opening his mouth to allow Cartman's tongue to slide in, numbed the pain.

They kissed frantically, pawing at each other and tasting the dry heat as their bodies moved so deliciously close together. Their sighs and groans of pleasure were twinned sordidly with the other equally satisfied noises that pervaded the room.

Kyle took full advantage of finding purchase in Cartman's arms by letting his desperate, eager fingers soak up every drop of clothed, almost innocent, intimacy they could. His long, slender fingers clawing Cartman's back in the same predatory manner that had enticed Cartman in the first place, wandering up into chestnut hair, drawing out a soft purr as his index finger circled the delicate curve where ear meets jawbone. Kyle licked the inside of Cartman's mouth approvingly, wishing he could slide his digits into Cartman's mouth and let them experience the heat that was searing his insides. The well versed fingers clawed into Cartman's broad chest and Kyle was sure to get his fill.

Those docs were a pain. Literally. Boring into Cartman's back with disregard as to how fucking painful they were. But Cartman could feel Kyle's anxious, zealous fidgets, his toes flexing as desire infected every part of him. That was kinda sweet. Kyle was wrapped around him, pinned wantonly and working Cartman until he admitted defeat. Which was never going to happen. Both of them were trembling, fighting with the tremendous force of each other and the shattering ecstasy that was mercilessly smoldering in the humid space between them. It was toxic, heady. Every coherent thought Cartman tried to resuscitate retreated further and further into the shore with every touch and kiss. He sighed as Kyle panted, solitary tongues doing all the work.

Cartman shivered as he came into contact with Kyle's lip ring. Shivering again when he mused over how that would feel on places more sensitive than his lips.

Kyle pulled Cartman closer and moaned when he heard the wonderful groan of Cartman's zipper. Kyle slid his hot groin over Cartman's hip, pleading silently and Cartman bit at Kyle's lips in impatient reassurance. They smiled wickedly into each other's mouths, their laughs hollow and weak.

"No, let's not do it here" Kyle whispers, ignoring the thought of how amazing it would be if Cartman looked him in the eyes when he stretched him open with a cock that Kyle couldn't help but get worked up over. He didn't want to have what could potentially be amazing sex in a public restroom.

"For fuck sake, Kahl" Cartman muttered impatiently, rolling his eyes. Damn, that Jew was a cocktease. Didn't he realize how crazy he made him? He almost lost it when Kyle's lips touched his. Incredible as that dickhead was, he was still that. A fucking dickhead. "Maybe you can hold out but I can't."

"Don't you think I feel the same way?!" Kyle snaps indignantly before smiling smugly and, in Cartman's opinion, sexily. "Look..." Kyle moans, grabbing Cartman's wrist and leading his hand to his clothed erection, grinding into his palm and sweet Jesus, his hand feels like heaven.

Cartman moans, his eyes trained helplessly on Kyle as he whimpers wantonly, his acidic green eyes rolling to the ceiling and he bites down on his lip. "Jesus..." Cartman chokes on the word, Kyle's little display wasn't helping.

"So why can't we just do it here?" Cartman asks, on the verge of pouting. It always helped when he was a kid and he wanted to get his way.

"Because exhibitionism really isn't my thing" Kyle replies, cruelly releasing Cartman's hand. A few more seconds and he would've blown his load. "Nor is voyeurism for that matter"

"You're so fucking uptight" Cartman smiles in exasperation, shaking his head.

"Take me back to your place." Kyle demands, pawing at Cartman's t-shirt and pulling him closer.

"Now, why would I do that?" Cartman asks in an infuriatingly insolent tone.

"Because you wanna see me naked as much as I wanna see you naked and I want us to fuck in as many positions as we can before we both can't take it anymore" Kyle replies coolly, his cock twitching when he feels Cartman tremble and moan quietly in the back of his throat. "And I think you'll find that there's not much we can do with this space"

Kyle smiles at Cartman's current speechlessness and hungry, bright eyes. Staring down at his mouth, Kyle jokes "I guess I've won"

"Damn right you have" Cartman grins before pulling Kyle in for a firm, passionate kiss.

They have sex at Cartman's place. Kyle lost track of how many times he moaned, cried and flexed his toes as Cartman continuously made him melt.

They stayed in bed for two days.

~x~

"You know, I had kind of a crush on you when we were kids" Cartman admits, murmuring his confession into Kyle's hair.

It was Saturday afternoon and Kyle was spending it in an unmade bed with Cartman. They were exhausted, drinking in the events of last night with smug, gratified smiles on their faces. Strewn across each other and entertaining the thought of doing it again.

"Seriously?" Kyle snickers in disbelief, resting his head on Cartman's chest, his tongue lapped over his nipple as he spoke "When I was a kid I had a hideous Jewfro and an off-putting aversion to sex... And when my balls finally dropped I had a shitload of acne and the most awkward growth spurt ever, but whatever gets you off, dude."

"No" Cartman laughs under his breath, rolling his eyes and kicking Kyle under the sheets. "I mean, when we were in high school"

"Oh" Kyle mumbles, wondering how different things would have been for the two of them if they had fooled around in high school. Kyle concluded that it would have been much more exciting (certainly less stressful) and he would probably have fonder memories of it.

"Yeah, I-" Cartman begins, softening his voice and murmuring into Kyle's hair as his fingers skimmed Kyle's inner thigh "I used to jack off to your class picture all the time..."

"Really?" Kyle smiles, strangely flattered that he was considered desirable in high school. He thought of high school Cartman, who intimidated freshman, was every cheerleader's wet dream and who looked weirdly good in a Letterman jacket, going home and fantasizing about the very guy who he had taken great pleasure in tormenting all his life. And as Kyle moved closer into Cartman's embrace, planting suggestive, wet kisses on his collarbone, neck and jaw, he didn't feel like he was just kissing present day, 23 year old Cartman but high school Cartman too. "Did you think about doing anything to me in particular?"

"Not much" Cartman replies, shrugging and slowly melting under Kyle's lips. "Hate-fucking you senseless. Beating your ass with a paddle until you came."

"Wow" Kyle whispers, dropping this coy, flirty act and laughing into Cartman's shoulder.

And Cartman guessed it was kinda funny and embarrassing, so he laughed at his old, awkward teenage self and kicked Kyle under the sheets again.

"Now that I think about it, you were pretty good looking in high school. I just hated you too much to realize it" Kyle says, twirling his finger around a lock of hair tucked behind Cartman's ear, sighing wistfully "You were like an ugly duckling who turned into a swan."

"What the fuck do you mean?! 'Ugly Duckling?!'" Cartman snaps defensively "I've always been hot!"

Kyle couldn't help but laugh at that. After all this time Cartman was still as deluded and arrogant as he'd always been.

Uch, Cartman hated that laugh. It was so fucking smug and obnoxious. He wondered why he brought Kyle home in the first place, oh, that's right because he's hot. He couldn't kick him out. Especially if there was another chance to fuck him.

So Kyle laughed, Cartman pouted and hour and a half later, they kissed.

Cartman knew Kyle was something else when he whispered hotly into Cartman's ear that fucking him senseless wasn't such a bad idea.

* * *

Their "no strings" relationship lasted four months. Although during those four months they were only having sex with each other. Obviously, they didn't tell each other that. They bragged about the plethora of people they had had in their respective beds and they didn't spare any fictional details.

But, like every romantic comedy or sitcom storyline, something had to give. No strings doesn't work. No matter how hard you try.

Because if you have an impressive track record of great sex with one particular person, why would you lower your game and risk having sex with somebody who could be just awful in bed?

Humans are reluctant creatures. If something is good we're going to discard any other possibilities and stick to what we know works. It's called playing it safe.

"I know you loathe labels..." Kyle begins.

"With a passion. Go on" Cartman interrupts without a second thought.

They had gone to their favorite Sizzler for dinner with the intention of heading back to Kyle's apartment and having sex. But Kyle had been planning something else; the talk. Because he thought this whole arrangement they had going on was getting pretty ridiculous. He wanted it defined. But really, he wanted something more.

"But if you had to give us a label" Kyle notices Cartman looking at him, with foreboding in his eyes. "What would it be?"

Kyle could hold his own. He wasn't too nervous. So he continued to eat his tri-tip sirloin while he waited for Cartman's response.

"Friends with benefits?" Cartman shrugs, not regarding Kyle's stupid question with any kind of importance.

Really? That's the best you can do? Kyle thought. He expected more from Cartman. He was disappointed, to say the least. And hurt. Fucking _hurt _it had been a long time since Kyle had felt that vulnerable, sickening pang in his chest. He didn't expect to feel that way because of Cartman anymore, that was supposedly all in the past.

"But we're not friends" Kyle replies bluntly, ignoring (and secretly delighted) how taken back Cartman is by that comment. "And besides, even if we were that's so lame!"

Cartman scowls, rolling his eyes and leaning in closer almost spitting out venomously "Fine. You really want me to be honest?"

"Yes please" Kyle snaps, leaning in closer too and giving Cartman the same look he remembered from the club four months ago.

Cartman could suppress a smile. But he couldn't control the ice that rolled down his spine.

"Okay" Cartman says, thinking for a bit. Tapping his fingers infuriatingly against the table, which in turn makes Kyle seethe and curse under his breath. Leaning back, Cartman replies thoughtfully "You're an incredibly, yet annoyingly hot Jew-slut who makes me cum and I'm the douchebag you keep coming back to because you love having my cock in your ass."

Cartman looks at Kyle for approval, who's silently fuming, his arms folded over his chest, staring at Cartman with poisonous, enraged eyes.

"How's that?" Cartman asks sweetly, making the dagger twist. It's almost unbearable, the fixed, firm stares. Cool but frantically boiling inside.

Kyle shakes his head, pursing his lips together like he's trying to control all the incoherent obscenities he could sling in Cartman's face. He could do so many things right now. He was capable of anything when it came to that fucker.

Instead, Kyle sighed, his shoulders heaving as he felt all the memories he had garnered with Cartman over these admittedly amazing four months, slide off him. And he was bare. Not caring what he said. Even if they were things he would later come to regret.

"Why do you have to be so blunt all the time?" Kyle asks softly, but to Cartman it sounded like whining. "It makes you come across as really insensitive."

"No shit, Jewlock I am insensitive! Jesus tapdancing Christ, I thought you would have figured that out by now!"

"That's bullcrap, Cartman! Any decent therapist would tell you that 80% of those mean, cruel, 'honest' words that come out of your mouth are just defense mechanisms!"

Kyle saw it. Cartman breaking, the pieces coming together and spelling that he was figured out.

Kyle almost felt bad, so he soothed the situation by running his foot up Cartman's leg under the table and timidly sighing "You act so different when we sleep together... I really like that side of you."

"Well, maybe that side of me only comes out when you're getting me off!" Cartman snaps and Kyle stops being somewhat affectionate and reasonable "Look, Kahl, I'm sorry but you're just gonna have to take the bad with the good."

With that, Cartman thought they could just drop this excruciating conversation and he could get back to his steak.

"Okay, I will" Kyle says, a tad sharp. But Cartman was paying too much attention to his meal to notice. "Exclusively"

"What?" Cartman says, swallowing his food before he choked on it.

"I want you to be bad and I want you to be good just for me" Kyle explains coolly, expertly holding a velvety tone "I want your undivided attention"

Kyle didn't really hold himself in high regard. The 'loving who you are' spiel that circulates a lot and often preaches to the shy, insecure converted had never really worked on him. Especially during adolescence. He would barely catch his reflection and then begin to obsess and pour over every detail of his body that made him want to suffocate himself. That damn fourth grade list, forgery or not, haunted him.

Now, it wasn't so bad. He knew he wasn't ugly but he still wondered how long he would have to save up his money in order to get a nose job.

However, he always had Cartman dangling. Even if that conceited asswipe didn't realize it. It was quite sweet. The evident passion and enthusiasm Cartman expressed whenever he had Kyle, bare and spread, on his sheets, made Kyle feel better about himself. It seemed like every imperfection miraculously erased when Cartman murmured how much he loved them.

"Fuck" Cartman whispers, hungrily, approvingly, making Kyle's ego swell. "You know you sound crazy hot, right? And once we finish this conversation I'm gonna take you into the bathroom and fuck you in the stalls?"

Kyle shivered. Cartman smirked triumphantly. He wasn't the only one dangling.

"So what do you say?" Kyle asked, trying to shake off Cartman's last comment even if he didn't want to. His aim was indifference. "Come on, doesn't that possessive, greedy side of you want me all to yourself?"

"More than anything" Cartman breathes out roughly. Hoping Kyle wouldn't notice just how flustered he is by that Jew's behavior.

"Well then, looks like we're boyfriends now" Kyle smiles neatly, his hands weren't trembling, there was no visceral sign of panic... Even if he wanted to be with Cartman, he figured that the rational, logical side of him would ring alarm bells and convince him desperately that this was a bad idea.

"Guess so" Cartman nods. The both of them exchanging shy smiles, accidentally brushing their feet together under the table.

Not wanting to admit just how stupidly happy they were.

* * *

It's customary for a couple who have recently moved into a new home, to fuck in every room.

So after a year of dates, kisses, pleasant surprises, weekends away, heated fights, stubborn apologies and everything in between, Cartman and Kyle moved into a small, rented apartment and followed that first day practice of sex in every room.

Kyle complained that it was "gross" and "unsanitary" to have sex in the kitchen ("we eat there!") and the bathroom ("we shit and piss there!") but Cartman was able to convince Kyle otherwise.

The lack of food they had in the kitchen put a damper on foodplay (especially since the food they _did _have wasn't particularly kinky). But Cartman settled for sucking a small grape out of Kyle's navel and Kyle quite liked licking Nutella off of Cartman's chest.

Admittedly, shower sex was better.

* * *

Whenever people asked them how long they had been together, Cartman and Kyle would reply that they have been dating for three years and living together for two. They vowed never to be one of those Hallmark, smug couples who, when telling, rather bragging, to people about their relationship use the word 'we' more often than 'I' and phrases like 'intense connection' and 'other half' and 'China patterns'. Hell no. They knew that they didn't need to project the image of being a happy, satisfied couple to make people believe it.

Although their living arrangement wasn't always harmonious, the bad always managed to outweigh the good and bickering was just their own, special way of communicating. Their unique bond, or some shit. After two years, they still felt like they were adjusting, learning something everyday. And with every lesson, came some kind of reward. Even if it was just avoiding a fight or making each other smile. Cartman realized that he could defuse Kyle's neurotic rants about the dishwasher by going down on Kyle while he was trying to study and making him some hot chocolate afterwards. Meanwhile, Kyle learnt that it was best for Cartman to be in charge of making dinner. Kyle was pretty much clueless when it came to cooking and became murderously impatient after five failed attempts at a recipe. Trying to teach Kyle wasn't an option either, since Cartman would make fun of Kyle for doing something wrong, Kyle would get stressed and shout something back, they'd argue fervently about the correct way to slice peppers, threaten each other with lethal kitchen utensils before ordering pizza.

Still, even if Kyle did yield to Cartman's astonishingly excellent cooking, it didn't mean that Cartman stopped bragging. This just made Kyle childishly jealous and spiteful.

"It isn't fair!" Kyle pouted, begrudgingly enjoying his chicken and mushroom risotto. Fuck, Cartman was amazing, he'd make a perfect little house-husband. This was the only silver lining Kyle managed to find in this situation. Besides from the fabulous food. "How are you so good at this?!"

"It's very simple, Kahl" Cartman begins, slightly distracted by E! News and Brangelina's wedding plans. "See, if you like eating food then cooking is more enjoyable and you have a, I dunno, natural skill. But if you're picky with your food and don't really enjoy it, then cooking is a lot harder"

"Hey! I like eating!" Kyle snaps, blushing and stabbing the rice with his fork, as if to prove a point.

"Doesn't look like it" Cartman teases, poking Kyle's ribs and laughing softly "Skinny bitch..."

"Shut up!"

"You need some more meat on you" Cartman observes, running his hand up Kyle's t-shirt and tracing the faintest outline of Kyle's ribs with his fingers. Kyle shivers and doesn't break eye-contact, the arrogance and amusement in Cartman's eyes making Kyle falter, a small, defeated smile simmering through Kyle's pissed off glare. He hated it when Cartman won. Son of a bitch.

"Would you like it if I got a little bigger?" Kyle asks, moving closer, his lips brushing against Cartman's mouth playfully. Biting his lip when Cartman's eyes widened and his fingers hesitated over the warm skin. Maybe he hadn't lost, after all.

"Doesn't matter to me" Cartman shrugs, lowering his eyes to Kyle's neck before kissing along Kyle's collarbone and throat. "I think what you've got going on now is pretty great"

So while Cartman's responsibility was making sure neither of them starved, one of Kyle's domestic duties (that he showed great enthusiasm for) was decorating the apartment. One of Kyle's favorite ways to relieve any stress from school was flicking through Pottery Barn catalogs whilst taking a bath. In order for the apartment to remain as fashionable and as modern as it could possibly be, Kyle went on monthly trips to Ikea and spent whatever spare cash he had on Swedish furniture whose names he couldn't pronounce. Cartman would've been cool with Kyle's little obsession, if he wasn't dragged along to these dreaded monthly exertions.

"Which color, dude?" Kyle asked, holding up the two pairs of near-identical curtains that he had been fawning over for half an hour.

"Saying 'dude' at the end of a question, doesn't make it masculine." Was all Cartman had to say on the matter. He wondered if Kyle would notice if he sneaked off and had a nap in one of the display beds. Or on one of the reclining armchairs.

"I don't care about the question sounding masculine" Kyle replies, struggling to remain patient and calm. He would be much more relaxed without Cartman complaining but if he came here on his own and bought something, he knew that Cartman would have some bitchy, mean thing to say about it when he arrived home. Bringing Cartman with him was the lesser of two evils. "I care about these curtains."

"Well, I don't!"

"Come on, Cartman!" Kyle whines "Can you please co-operate? One of these curtains is going to be in the living room, we're gonna see them every day and I need your opinion so I don't buy ones you completely hate! Because I have enough to deal with, without your snide, pissy remarks! So duckegg blue or cornflower blue?"

"But they're exactly the same!" Cartman shouts, narrowing his eyes at the color chart with as much disdain as he could muster.

"No they're not!" Kyle yells, stamping his foot before taking a deep breath "I thought you, of all people, would know that! You're a photographer for God's sake! You must have some creative eye or some awareness of what's good, visually! So come on... Think of our living room... Now, duckegg or cornflower?"

"What's wrong with the curtains we already have?!"

"They don't go with our new stuff! Our living room has a completely different color scheme now-"

"And whose fault is that?"

"Please" Kyle snaps through gritted teeth, fingers curled tightly around the curtains "Just pick a color. Duckegg or fucking Cornflower?!"

"Kahl, you could have baby-shit-green curtains and I wouldn't give a fucking rats ass!" Cartman shouts, feeling a migraine coming on.

"Fine! Duckegg it is then!" Kyle exclaims, throwing the desired curtains furiously into the shopping cart, ready to leave Cartman here on his own and drive home without him.

"Whatever" Cartman mutters, sulking behind Kyle like a moody teenager.

With a sharp turn of wheels, Kyle faced Cartman, seething and worryingly angry, almost deranged.

"And I swear to Abraham, if you so much as frown at these curtains I will shove my Docs so far up your ass that you'll choke on the laces, do you understand?!"

"Yes" Cartman whispers, frightened and turned on. If this was going to happen every time they came to Ikea, then he'd look forward to it.

"Good" Kyle manages to smile before turning around. If he kept looking at Cartman then the urge to run him over with the shopping cart would only get stronger.

"By the way" Cartman began, catching up with Kyle as they walked side by side "My balls get _so _tight when you threaten me like that..."

"You're disgusting"

"I've said worse" Cartman grins and Kyle blushes as he thinks how embarrassingly true that is "In fact, I recall you loving my dirty talk."

"I do" Kyle replies, figuring he might as well bite the bullet. It's the only way Cartman would drop this. "My cock practically quivers in pleasure when you moan sweet, depraved nothings in my ear but that kind of talk isn't appropriate right now. Because we're in the middle of fucking Ikea and quite frankly, the only thing that's turning me on are these curtains."

When Kyle was going through an undeniably psychotic fit of rage (like he was right now) Cartman felt it would be downright insane/stupid of him to remind Kyle that he shouldn't be wasting the little money he had on new curtains. Kyle was in his last year of law school and even though he had an internship last year, he didn't get paid for it. After a month of stress and coffee Kyle felt a little ripped off, surely he was entitled to _something. _However, his reward came in the form of a job offer for when he graduated. Needless to say, Kyle was fucking ecstatic. When he got home he practically attacked Cartman, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, his legs around his waist and kissing his face happily in between excited, indecipherable nonsense. But Kyle was happy and Cartman thought that was enough, he didn't need to question it.

So until Kyle's glorious first day as a qualified lawyer came around, Cartman was the breadwinner. Which freaked him out slightly. Since freelance photography isn't the most consistently well-paid job. But it certainly outweighed what Kyle earned during shifts at the local Starbucks. Sometimes.

The kind of work Cartman had was either well-paying and interesting or measly and insufferably boring. Kyle preferred the former, Cartman would stroll into the apartment, endearingly smug and cheerful, singing 80s power songs to himself (or serenading Kyle with ballads) and talking ardently about his job over dinner, which Kyle listened to wholeheartedly. Kyle embraced Cartman's good mood, since a dry spell in his career could be around the corner and it drained Kyle when Cartman became incredibly self-deprecating, although Kyle was often blown away by the extent of Cartman's talent and how adorably humble he was about it all.

Being booked for measly or boring jobs however, pained Cartman more than having no work at all. Kyle wasn't too fond of it either, wincing and sighing with heavily implied impatience when Cartman cursed his "stupid fucking hippie job" and exclaimed such pearls as; "That's it! I am no longer taking bookings for weddings! Damn things make me want to swallow a bullet! Brides are just _so _bitchy! Uch!"

Kyle couldn't contain his laughter at the now infamous "Bridezilla" rant. And Cartman knew that he was being hilariously dramatic and stressed, but he daren't admit it. Instead, he gave Kyle an irritated smile before shutting up that mean laugh with a demanding, deep kiss.

* * *

Even after three years the sex was phenomenal. It seemed to be such a frenzied exaggeration, but when the air melted, hot and golden, when they worshiped and tore at each other wildly and when every action coaxed ecstasy and pleasure to roll down the rope of their spines, the column of their throats and the quivering, leaking shafts of their erections... Kyle and Cartman could think of no other word to describe it. Phenomenal. If they weren't so busy chanting each other's names like fervent prayers or voicing their passion and lusty delirium then they would have said just that.

Kyle had an ass so tight that during their first tryst, Cartman was almost sure that Kyle was a virgin. But, alas, he was mistaken. Meanwhile, Cartman had the thickest cock Kyle ever had the pleasure of having inside him. And Cartman's _tongue _Kyle could glide exquisitely into euphoria with a heady, trembling orgasm when Cartman rimmed him. Cartman could manipulate him wordlessly, Kyle realized, his tongue was capable of wonderful, wonderful things.

On Sunday afternoons in bed (where kisses traveled elsewhere and screwing was lazy and surprisingly effective) Kyle would spend (what gloriously felt like) hours with his legs wrapped around Cartman's neck, thrusting his hips and crying sweetly while Cartman ate his ass, muffled moans spiraling deliciously into Kyle's prostate.

Submission was a beautiful shade on Kyle. Maybe it was Cartman's aching and ever-present desire to have control? Or because his name sounded more pleasing to the ear when it was pouring out of Kyle's mouth laced with mercy and inescapable pleasure? Whatever the reason, Cartman couldn't deny that seeing Kyle spread out, slick, strung out, breathless and pleading all because he was inside him, aroused his plexus, igniting some secret, private thought, a feeling, that was bigger than the both of them, encompassing them possessively.

Although, submission was a rather fetching shade on Cartman too. Even if he had to be plied with a lot of drinks to fully submit to Kyle. Some might call it taking advantage, Kyle preferred to think of it as well-meaning encouragement. As much as he tried, Kyle couldn't escape his bitterness, his irrational anger and searing grudges and although his feelings for Cartman had certainly shifted over the years, Kyle could honestly say that nobody else made him angrier than Cartman. So getting to fuck him was a therapeutic exercise, after all, having the upper hand over the obnoxious bully of your childhood is a universally great feeling. Still, Kyle strove to make Cartman whimper and moan since they were such strangely enticing sounds (even if Kyle threatened Cartman with death if he dared to come before he did) and just the feeling of being inside Cartman was enough to make Kyle cry out in forgiveness for all of Cartman's wrong-doings.

It wasn't as if Cartman didn't enjoy it either, he pretended (for his hugely inflated ego's sake) that he was only willing to be fucked whilst drunk but he gladly entertained the thought whilst sober too. Kyle wasn't weak, in any sense of the word, every fight since elementary school proved that to Cartman and in some way, Kyle's stubborn, vehemently impenetrable strength loaned itself to Cartman's dominance. When Kyle was underneath him, manipulated and obsessed, that strength was somehow compromised, on an all too familiar leash, but still somehow pulling towards the magnet that was Kyle, heeding to him still. But Cartman thrived under Kyle's control and for once in his life, actually enjoyed obeying someone (even if his motives weren't totally selfless). To Cartman, Kyle was exquisite and he trembled at the thought of being in the center of this wonderful attention.

Carnal activities had a certain rhythm to them. Kisses were deep, wet, something to soothe the craving and make them pine for more. The threshold was greedy, unapologetic, aggressive as teeth sunk into lips, throats, any skin that was exposed, soft, vulnerable... clothes are hurriedly discarded, feverishly thrown away and becoming quickly unwanted. Bodies become tangled, a friction so hot and dry tempts them to come closer. Fingers bruise backs, chests, arms, legs, asses without complaint and there's a thought of feeling possessed and free all at once. Foreplay is both a mean of intimacy and starting a job without finishing it. Hands and mouths transform into silky heavens and move in ethereal ways.

If the aforementioned is an impatient, boisterous party, anticipating greatly for something unspoken and magical to happen then sex is the grand finale, the firework display or slow dance. Slow. When Cartman and Kyle were intertwined, time was hushed, watching them from a distance with bated breath. It seems like the whole world just shuts up for a second. Every single time. And when they move, noises start to creep back in, tentative and hesitant, sounds of weakness, an innate happiness, words that are hushed and earnest. Silence turns to murmuring to a crescendo of a release that seems impossible to contain, every touch is excruciatingly and agonizingly fulfilling and yet empty. They thought they could never experience this, it seemed so unreachable, especially with each other.

When their eyes meet, a word that they were still too afraid to speak swells and implodes from constricted hearts.

* * *

Not long after his 26th birthday, Cartman had a tattoo. It was a small, black, italic K that flowed in fluid lines, above his heart.

The tattoo was an impulse decision, admittedly. Kenny had called him on a Saturday morning, informing him that he was adding more inked works of art to his body and would Cartman like to accompany him. Or in Kenny's words "Dude, I haven't seen you in forever! We should totally hang out. Are you busy today? Good, listen, I'm having another tattoo and you should come with me. It'd be cool, right?! Of course it would, you fucking asshole! Meet me in Starbucks at 2 PM. What do you mean, which one? Yes, I'm aware that they're fucking everywhere. The one that's closest to your apartment! Across the street from that crappy little hardware store? Cool, man, see you later! Oh, before you hang up, do you mind buying coffee for me? It's just that the only cash I have is for my tattoo and- Hello?... Eric?... Motherfucker!"

Cartman first had the idea for a tattoo whilst him and Kenny were catching up in Starbucks. They talked about people from town, jobs (steady income was an issue for both of them it seemed. "Still the poor kids!" Kenny had joked, raising his latte. Cartman didn't laugh) and relationships. Kenny was still single, 'playing the field' and didn't really have much to report on. But Cartman talked vehemently about Kyle and decided to ignore the amused, smug smile playing on Kenny's lips.

He stood by Kenny in the tattoo parlor, who was sitting calmly, unphased as the needle droned and circled his shoulder blade. Kenny's threshold for pain had always been high, Cartman realized. After admiring Kenny's freshly inked pentagram, Cartman plucked up the courage to have his desired tattoo done too.

The experience reminded Cartman of having his hair cut, the tattoo artist asked him questions although Cartman was perfectly happy to have mindless conversation with Kenny or sit in total silence. "What does the K mean?" the guy asked, he was always interested in the meaning behind these, what he thought were, expressions and symbols of oneself. Before Cartman could answer, Kenny jumped in "Kenny. That's my name. We're lovers." And if Cartman didn't have a needle pressed to his chest he would have kicked Kenny in the nuts.

To Cartman's disappointment, Kyle wasn't exactly thrilled. In fact, he was furious and unjustifiably so in Cartman's opinion.

"So I'm guessing you don't like it, then?" Cartman finally asked after five minutes of Kyle angrily pacing the living room with pursed lips and tightly folded arms.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck gave it away, Cartman?!" Kyle replied wryly. His rage simmering. Cartman felt that the tattoo wasn't solely meant for Kyle, after all, it was on _his _fucking chest. No, Cartman felt that it was totally for him, a token of Kyle that would be forever branded on him and him alone.

"Honestly, I don't know what the big deal is..." Cartman snapped, rolling his eyes in that annoying, pompous way that Kyle fucking hates.

"The deal is that you went ahead with something so fucking permanent without even talking to me about it!"

"What, so now I have to ask your permission when I make decisions?! Even though it's my body and my money and last time I checked, that wasn't your responsibility!"

"You don't fucking get it, Cartman!" Kyle shouts, stamping his foot in frustration like a petulant child "I don't want to make your decisions for you but I want you to take my feelings into consideration before you do something so God damn reckless!"

"Okay, I fucked up! I'm sorry!" Cartman hoped that Kyle realized how hard that was for him to say. "Are we cool now?"

No, Kyle thought, ignoring the question and instead shedding the skin off his thumb anxiously, quivering with anger.

Cartman sighs exasperatedly "What is it, Kahl?". He reaches out to touch Kyle but he recoils. Not out of disgust (at least Cartman hoped not) but out of pride.

"It's just that I, I like seeing you naked..."

"Thanks?" Cartman jokes

"I love your body" Kyle continues, dismissing Cartman entirely. He blushes instantly and he can feel his cock twitch in his jeans "It's obviously a big part of what makes having sex with you so great. And, and I'm just scared that when we have sex now, that fucking tattoo will ruin you for me, you know? Like it'll just spoil everything."

Kyle steps closer to Cartman then, his eyebrows furrowed and he runs his hands down Cartman's broad chest affectionately. His eyes lingering fondly like the memory of his pre-tattooed body will evaporate under his fingers.

"Kahl, it's a tattoo. It's tiny. It's not like it's a hideous growth, or something." There was something so helpless and sad about Kyle right now that Cartman couldn't help but be attracted to.

"It might as well be" Kyle pouts, pressing his forehead to Cartman's.

The both of them wonder how, in the midst of yet another heated fight, they've ended up so silently close. Neither one of them admitting defeat and the electric conflict still hung, oxidized. Kyle stared down to his sneakers, aware that Cartman was staring at his mouth. But he was not letting that fucker kiss him or touch him.

Something perturbed Kyle about that damn italic K. It was something more important than taste or sex. It was something he couldn't, or refused, to understand. He didn't know what. And that bugged the Hell out of him.

"The new Pottery Barn catalog arrived today so I'm gonna go read it in the bedroom." Kyle mutters, coldly removing himself from Cartman's hold and walking away without turning back. "I'm locking the door so don't bother knocking."

~x~

The tattoo remained a divisive issue for a number of weeks.

Until one night, during what could be seen as make-up sex, Kyle kissed the damned italic K in consolation and laved his tongue around Cartman's nipple.

After rough sex and synchronized orgasms, Cartman and Kyle made out in their messed up bed, exhausted yet gratified.

"I think it's really hot when you kiss my tattoo..." Cartman murmured wetly, licking open Kyle's mouth.

"You do?" Kyle moaned into the kiss, his trembling fingers tracing the fine, black lines that glistened with sweat.

Cartman sighed and nodded, biting down on Kyle's full, bottom lip, eliciting a soft hiss.

"It's all for you..." Cartman whispered, kissing Kyle's chin, down to his throat.

"Uh huh" Kyle nodded, surprised though he knew he shouldn't be.

"Never thought I'd say that, did you?" Cartman snickered, peppering kisses on Kyle's gleaming neck.

"No, I didn't" Kyle smiled, closing his eyes and kissing Cartman's forehead.

Maybe that little K wasn't so scary, after all.

* * *

Kyle came home from a rather stressful day at school to find Cartman sitting cross-legged on the couch, engrossed in an Iron Chef repeat. Kyle doubted that Cartman had bothered to take the garbage out, empty the dishwasher or do any chores at all. But Kyle was too stressed to even care. He just wanted to forget about school for a minute and he had shamelessly pinned all his stress-relieving solutions on Cartman and thought about him all day. After all, Cartman wasn't working today and Kyle dreamily entertained the thought of Cartman being at home, waiting for him.

Little did Kyle know that Cartman had actually been very busy. In his own subtle ways. The closed notebook on the recently purchased cedar coffee table contained numerous scribbled ideas and notes on, what Cartman thought was, the most crucial and important moment in his and Kyle's relationship thus far.

"Hey" Kyle sighed, hoping that the heaviness in his voice and the way he threw his bookbag onto the couch emphasized his plight.

"Hey!" Cartman replied, excitement burning in the sweet caramel of his eyes. He was trying to be aloof, yet to find the perfect balance of nonchalance. His eyebrows furrowed and his excitement was dampened, however, at Kyle's weariness. "What's the matter, Jewboy? You got sand in your vagina or something?"

"I never understood that expression." Kyle mumbled, keeping his eyes away from Cartman, a small smile trembling at the corner of his mouth "I have no vagina to get sand trapped in, so can't you focus on another body part? I'm sure I have existing orifices that are just as qualified to hold sand..."

"Believe me, Kahl, you have.." Cartman smirked, licking his teeth.

This only elicited a small laugh between the two of them before Cartman asked again "Seriously, what's up?"

"Nothing" Kyle muttered under his breath, absent-mindedly tracing the pattern of the cream scatter cushions. Without a second thought, Kyle trailed his eyes up the tall, familiar figure that had stood up to greet him and when his eyes met the bright, unjaded gold of Cartman's, Kyle smiled and this time sighed sweetly, in adoration and contentment. "Nothing."

Kyle continued to stare, his fatigue and frazzled nerves making something stir, overwhelmed and fragile, in his chest, his eyes and it eventually crept onto his mouth in a fond smile.

"Come here..." Kyle finally whispered tentatively, pawing at Cartman's t-shirt and gazing at his mouth with lidded eyes.

The two of them soon collapsed onto the couch giggling between the tight, humid space between them. The laughter dying out when their mouths melded, hot and slow. There was something so weak about the mewls and whimpers that escaped their lips, Kyle thought, almost as if there was something on both their minds, although Kyle couldn't concentrate on anything or anyone else other than Cartman. Hooked on him helplessly. Kyle's fingers slid under Cartman's shirt, clawing his fingers up his chest, tasting copper at the back of his throat. Cartman hissed, biting down on Kyle's kiss-swollen lower lip.

"I've thought about you all day..." Cartman murmured huskily into Kyle's shoulder. He rolled his hips, his arousal roughly stroking Kyle's. Pleased with the hungry moan that Kyle let slip, Cartman growled and spread Kyle's legs further apart, dying to come closer.

"Me too" Kyle mewled, coherent thoughts swirling above his head menacingly, feeling safe in Cartman's arms. Emerald eyes rolled to the ceiling and Kyle silently admitted defeat. His lips slowly drying as Cartman's mouth traveled elsewhere.

Usually, Kyle would have moaned one simple word to Cartman by now. "Bed". This was protocol when fooling around on the couch. Not since they moved in had they had sex anywhere other than their bedroom. Kyle maintained that having sex in bed is a lot less hassle, it lends itself to the act so well. But Cartman knew that the real reason Kyle didn't want to have sex on the couch (for example) was because he didn't like the thought of getting spooge on the leather. Today seemed to be an exception. Kyle couldn't remember the last time he had felt this impatient.

With his free hand, Kyle's trembling fingers caught hold of Cartman's wrist, dragging his thick digits to his plush, damp mouth. "I want you inside me..." Kyle moaned wantonly around the fingers he was currently sucking on.

"Yeah" Cartman breathed out, ragged and mindless, biting Kyle's earlobe and tugging at it.

Kyle almost whined when Cartman cruelly slipped his fingers out of his mouth, instead unbuttoning Kyle's jeans and unzipping his fly with shaky, greedy hands.

It was then that Cartman realized that he had let his previous giddy, anticipatory excitement be replaced by another kind of excitement; the hazy, amorous kind. However great the latter was, it was distracting him from his 'mission' as he liked to call it. And whilst Kyle was writhing in his arms, infatuated and looking effortlessly and infuriatingly stunning, Cartman couldn't think of a better time to say it. Sure, the location wasn't as romantic as he had hoped, but it would have to do.

The worryingly affectionate gaze that Cartman had been giving Kyle for the last five minutes wasn't making "Operation: Hot Pounding of Kyle's Ass" move any faster. Quite the opposite, it was making Kyle suspicious, slightly tense.

"What?" Kyle whispered, his voice small as he playfully bit at Cartman's lip.

Silence. Well, except for the rather eerie sound of the TV, distant and rejected. Cartman sat up, leaving Kyle stretched out on the sofa, his jeans riding low on his hips. Kyle blushed at how awkwardly provocative his sitting position was and how the distance between him and Cartman suggested some recoil in disgust.

"Cartman, dude, what's up?" Kyle asked, an edge of concern piercing the impatience in his voice. Honestly, what the fuck? They were making out, everything was great and then Cartman started staring at him like a love-crazed sociopath.

"Nothing's up" Cartman began, chuckling to himself as he realized that wasn't true, judging by the hardened bulge Kyle was sporting and the tightness of his own jeans. "It's just that... God, this is crazy. You would've thought shit like this would be no problem for me, right? Public speaking and all... I guess this is a tad different."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Kyle asked slowly, ignoring his unzipped jeans and his still unattended boner. Kyle studied Cartman with narrowed eyes. "Have you, like, hit your head or something?"

"No, Kahl, I'm perfectly fine" (Kyle begged to differ).

"You're the first person I've ever said this to- wow, that's insane. Not that I haven't said this before but the fact that it's _you_" Cartman paused then, limply grabbing Kyle's hand and invading the caverns of Kyle's fingers with his own damp ones. Kyle smiled then, finding the whole thing rather calming, like Cartman and him had the ability to make the world slow down. But for Cartman, this tiny, insignificant, soon-to-be-lost gesture was just as important as a camera flash, preserving something and vowing somehow to never take it for granted. Touching Kyle's fingers, holding his hand, something he must've done a million times over the course of three years had suddenly become an "event horizon" moment for him to remind himself what this was all for. All about. Kyle. "I mean, I never thought I would feel this way about anybody. I didn't think I had the capacity to let myself feel this way, I guess you have no choice though, right? I didn't think such an involuntary action would bring me such... Happiness. Contentment. Falling in love... We think it's so predictable but it's not. Out of all the people I could have fallen in love with, I fall in love with a kid who I convinced myself I hated. But I never hated you, not really. Not when I think about how fucking obsessed I was with you, not when I think how much I wanted you as the years went by and not when we were finally together and you brought feelings and thoughts out of me that I never knew existed and without even knowing it, you made me feel reassured. That it was okay... You're just this really intense force, Kahl. Somehow you ended up colliding with me, another equally intense force and I fought for every last drop of you because you're, well you're intoxicating. But fuck am I glad that we collided because I can't, and I hope I won't have to, live without you. God, I feel so grateful sometimes. So in awe of you, you know? Because it's not just wanting you, it's needing you and... Loving you. I, I love you."

"Wow" Kyle whispers, lost in flimsy restraint and overpowering emotion, Cartman's own gentle shakiness and his ability to remain resilient only moved Kyle more. Three years passed in a reminiscent, heavy cloud over Cartman's face that was, right now, stupidly kissable to Kyle. It almost made him laugh hysterically, but he refrained. His heart clung to his throat and his eyes grew misty, gripping Cartman's hand tighter and feeling those famous three words pulsate between them. "Cartman, wow..."

"I really mean it, Jewboy" Cartman nods, smiling dreamily "You and I, we've got something really good here. You're the only person who I'd let drive me insane for the rest of my life"

Kyle rolled his eyes and laughed, pressing his forehead to Cartman's and replying with only half a measure of saccharine sarcasm "That's so sweet."

Their goofy, amused grins melt into thoughtful, hungry looks of want and with hooded, dark eyes they kiss again. Kyle finds himself wrapped around Cartman, pushing himself closer into his embrace as a kind of gesture, Kyle cringed as he quietly promised a plethora of heart-wrenching, romantic things to Cartman in his head, hoping to articulate them through his kisses.

Cartman smiled into the kiss as his hands possessively sought purchase on Kyle's body, roughly grabbing Kyle's ass.

"You know that I feel the same way? Don't you?" Kyle whispered, flushed and heady, softly licking Cartman's lower lip.

"No..." Cartman laughed dismissively, reaching out for Kyle's mouth.

"What?" Kyle asked incredulously, pushing himself away from Cartman "You're kidding, right?"

Cartman rolled his eyes before impatiently explaining, like his reasoning was perfectly rational "Of course I know how you feel, dumbass but that's not enough! Where's the atmosphere? The build up? The heartfelt speech? Oh, and you know, actually saying 'I love you'?"

"Fine! I love you, you touchy bastard!"

"Oh, Kahl! How fucking beautiful!" Cartman snapped, bitter and sardonic.

"Shut up!" Kyle shouted, jumping up from the sofa in a searing, feverish anger, wanting to block his ears as he paced back and forth. He wanted to drown out this ridiculous, petty bullshit that he was only making worse "Do you have to be such a PMS-ing drama queen bitch about everything?!"

"No! But this is a big deal!" Cartman reminded him, amazed at how Kyle could forget that. Didn't he deserve a heartfelt, meaningful speech too? He had every right to be pissed! "So excuse me for getting a little worked up!"

"Okay, enlighten me" Kyle finally snapped, folding his arms defensively and standing still, giving Cartman his infamous ball-shriveling look that must have originated in the darkest corners of Hell. It was terrifying "Because I'm fucking lost!"

Cartman sighed exasperatedly, running his frustrated hands through his hair "I want you to tell me your feelings in a romantic, thoughtful way!"

Kyle would laugh and cringe if he wasn't so pissed off, but if that's what Cartman needed to hear then fine. After all, it wasn't a case of not wanting to say it. It was saying it in a way that Cartman actually wanted to hear. So Kyle cleared his throat and began "Cartman-"

"No, no, no! God damn it Jew, can't you do anything right? Don't you know anything about romance?" Cartman asked, rolling his eyes and forcefully pulling Kyle down onto the sofa, too close for Kyle's liking. "Look, you can't declare your feelings now! It's too soon! I'll know that you're only saying it because you're being forced to! There'll be no deeper meaning behind it! It'll just be cliched garbage from the top of your curly, ginger head..." Cartman pauses to twirl a red curl around his finger, Kyle scowls and hits his wrist away. "No, it has to be special, honest, meaningful, spontaneous-"

"Extravagant? Gratuitous? And since it's you, expensive?"

"Typical cheap Jew" Cartman laughs, shaking his head.

"Don't start, Cartman!" Kyle shouts, pointing a stern finger at Cartman "That's just an ignorant, bigoted, old fashioned stereotype that you know as well as I-"

"Don't change the subject!" Cartman smirks, batting Kyle's hand away "You shifty-eyed daywalkers are all the same!"

Kyle sighed in defeat, exuding despair and frayed nerves, sinking into the couch and muttering loud enough "This is coming from the man who supposedly loves me..."

Cartman smiled gently, sinking too so he was on Kyle's level and he looked at him even though Kyle sure as Hell wasn't going to look back, he reassured seriously "This is true fucking love, Kahl"

Kyle turned his head and sat up straight, knowing full well that Cartman was finding this whole thing rather amusing, although he couldn't ignore the sincerity of Cartman's argument. Through gritted teeth he asked "Well, if you know all that then why the fuck do you need me to spell it out for you, you fucking dipshit?"

"Because" Cartman shrugged, studying his nails and biting the inside of his mouth. The worst, the most fucking infuriating response Kyle could ever hope to hear.

"Insane!" The only word Kyle is able to shout as he stands up and storms off to the bedroom, hurriedly zipping his jeans up on the way "I'm living with an insane fucking sociopath! I'm dating an insane sociopath! Dear God, I'm sharing a bed with an insane fucking sociopath!"

Cartman rolled his eyes and grinned at the frenzied emphasis on the last word Kyle shouted. "Who makes you scream like a depraved slut when cum practically explodes from that adorable circumcised cock of yours!" Cartman called out, imagining Kyle trying to suppress a shudder of pleasure as he was reminded how fucking awesome Cartman was in bed.

"Fuck off, Cartman!" Kyle shouted, slamming the bedroom door.

* * *

Out of sheer stubbornness, Kyle had made no attempts to say an "I love you" to Cartman. Still, Cartman's little admission remained silently acknowledged; reflected in the more fond, sincere looks Cartman and Kyle exchanged, trespassing every kiss and touch and sometimes, if the moment was right (rather defenseless) enough, Cartman would whisper it to Kyle in bed.

Kyle always reacted, how could he not? This milestone in their relationship was hard to ignore. The fact that Kyle was yet to complete his part of the transaction was also hard to ignore and feeding Kyle's neurosis and infamous sense of agitation.

A simple "I love you" note or a genuine, passionate "I love you too" during sex wasn't going to satisfy Cartman. He expected something more; pure and honest but also _special. _An unfairly vague word.

Kyle liked to pretend he was fooling Cartman (and himself) in letting on that he wasn't even considering reciprocating the "I love you". But his mind was either filled with thoughts of "Why has he made this so complicated?" and "Fuck, how do I even begin with this?". Other paranoid, anxious thoughts murmured incessantly regarding this issue, but Kyle preferred not to heed to them.

The pressure was becoming enormous and the sad part was, that Kyle recognized that Cartman didn't want this kind of pressure. All he really wanted was for Kyle to just say it. Kyle almost wished that Cartman was nagging him, his patience about it all (which Kyle would've killed for in any other situation) was driving him even crazier.

Two weeks had gone by since that failed attempt at sex on the couch and Kyle was hoping that brunch with Cartman's mom would help distract him from his dilemma.

* * *

Cartman and Kyle had been waiting for Miss Cartman for an hour and a half. To Cartman this was typical behaviour, she was always late. She had been late to his football games, parent-teacher conferences, his high school graduation and now she was late for brunch at the moderately-priced Italian restaurant that was fifteen minutes away from DU Law. But, Kyle had argued, she always showed up, looked gorgeous and was so happy to see her little 'poopsikins'. Cartman had grimaced at that comment and considered whether it was too early in the day for a scotch.

And then, as if by some maternal magic; "If it isn't my two favorite boys in the whole world!"

A few of the diners looked up at hearing the melodic voice that poured like sinful champagne. Liane flicked her wrist in a regal wave, all cheerful smiles and self-assured strides as she made her way to the table. Cartman cringed, aching for a scotch, while Kyle laughed and politely waved back.

Cartman's mom had this incredible aura about her, she remained blissfully unaware and modest about her captivating nature. To those easily taken in by her sensuality, charisma and some would say flawlessness, she was like a piece of old Hollywood who had never known anything outside small town life and drunken, youthful mistakes. She had a coy yet sultry disposition that Kyle felt he must have missed as a kid. Anyone could stand next to her and dazzle. It was almost intimidating, but Kyle was pretty sure that he was comfortable around her now.

Miss Cartman wore a slim line shift dress that hugged her remarkably svelte figure (Liane didn't do frumpy) and seven inch toothpick heels (Kyle had never seen her in flats and to Cartman's recollection, neither had he. She even cooked Christmas dinner in Steven Madden heels. A gift from a past lover.) Her bottle brunette hair was pulled back in a chignon bun and her lips were painted a deep berry, the only visible signs of aging were the pinched wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and the slight worry lines that creased her forehead (Though those were hardly surprising, considering that for the best part of eighteen years Eric Cartman had been her responsibility to worry about).

Once at the table, she cooed and laughed indulgently, hugging her two favorite boys in the world with enough maternal affection to satisfy everyone in the room.

"Eric!" She exclaimed excitedly, a one-woman fanfare.

"Hey mom" Cartman had smiled meekly, flinching at the force of her embrace.

"And Kyle..." Liane purred, managing to take her attention away from Eric for a second.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Cartman..." Kyle replied, smiling sheepishly and blushing as lithe, pale arms draped around his neck. She smelled of Chanel No. 5 and face powder.

"It's so wonderful to see you again dear, truly" Liane whispered sincerely, stepping away and holding Kyle at arms length as she beamed rather proudly.

Even after all the brunches, homecomings and seasonal get-togethers, it still felt strange how Cartman's mom had taken such a liking to Kyle. She had made this connection, without Kyle even realizing it. After the disastrous first Christmas visit Kyle was sure that Miss Cartman would only ever be able to look at him with contempt... Catching your son having sex in his childhood bed is never a pretty sight. Yep, that was the last thing Miss Cartman wanted to see on Christmas morning; her son aggressively pounding his scrawny, Jewish boyfriend who's quivering ankles were hoisted over her son's shoulders, moaning his unabashed, explicit consent at the undeniably magnificent fucking session and almost literally crying in unadulterated ecstasy.

So Kyle spent Christmas day wearing a lovely shade of red (which Cartman found hysterical, after all, he had lost count of how many times he had walked in on his mom having sex. He felt that it was only fair that she felt the same disgust and embarrassment as he had previously felt). But Kyle learned that Miss Cartman held no grudges and that she was the most deceptively sweet woman he had ever met.

~x~

"So Miss Cartman, how's Juan?" Kyle asked after food had been ordered and Cartman had wiped the offending berry lipstick stain away from his cheek.

Liane took a sip of the Martini she had been dismissively holding before replying shortly "Deported"

"Oh, I'm sorry" Kyle offers a smile, slightly taken back by how matter-of-fact she was being about her latest squeeze leaving the country. Kyle vaguely remembered Juan, he was quiet yet striking. And with such remarkable good looks maybe conversation wasn't necessary? Cartman hated him. He's the worst kind of boyfriend, Cartman had bitched to Kyle after being introduced to the deported ex-lover, He's younger than me. Uch, it's even worse than those lecherous sugar daddies who act like they're my fucking stepfather. Christ, I need a drink.

Cartman always needed a drink when it came to spending time with his mother.

"I told you that would happen, mom. The guy didn't even have a job" Cartman sighed, before his disinterested smile became slightly more devious, wicked "Unless he was charging you for multiple orgasms? You know, 10 dollars per climax?"

Kyle almost choked on his water. Meanwhile, Liane simply rolled her eyes and laughed, bemused. She'd been through all this before. In her eyes, twenty six year old Eric was no different to ten year old Eric.

"Manners, poopsikins" Liane winked.

Kyle and Miss Cartman shared a triumphant smirk of solidarity as Cartman scowled.

~x~

Being a presence in each other's lives for twenty two years, Cartman and Kyle hoped that they knew a little bit about each other. For example, when Cartman spent time with his mother, "going to the bathroom" translated to "I need some time to regroup and be alone before I cause a scene because God knows I can't take any more of this woman"

Kyle gave Cartman a sympathetic, reassuring look as he left the table with his signature excuse. Maybe that's what he wants to hear, Kyle thought, that even before the no-strings, the conversation at Sizzler, the apartment and the right now, we've always had this understanding. This ability to figure each other out and whether we liked it or not, we _get _each other. Is it surprising that we ended up this way? Seperate people and yet one force. Cartman and Kyle. It rolls of the tongue nicely... It's what I stupidly daydream about at school, fuck I'm like a chick, imagining the day where I belong to that asshole and he belongs to me and it's official, to have and to-

"I'm so happy he's found somebody..." Miss Cartman's voice interrupting Kyle's train of thought. She too is staring at Cartman as he walks away, not in the wistful, dreamy way Kyle is though.

"Huh?" Kyle asks, blushing as he tries to shake off the notion of his thoughts being invaded.

"Eric. I'm so happy he's found somebody" Liane smiles and it makes Kyle laugh nervously, before he can pick up his water with shaky hands, slender fingers coil around his wrist. A velvety voice lulls him into obedience "Actually Kyle, now that Eric's gone we can have a little talk. Just us."

"Am I in trouble?" Kyle asks, wishing he was funny.

"No, hun! Of course not!" Liane laughs like the idea is totally preposterous "I just want to talk to you about Eric. I know he's not the easiest person to get along with, I can't imagine what he's like in a relationship-"

Kyle's blush intensifies then as he thinks of every memorable conversation, every breathtaking kiss and every night in bed where Cartman was "on top of his game". Kyle begins to wonder if this hideous shade of red is going to rush to his face whenever Miss Cartman is around.

"But take it from the woman who has loved him unconditionally and will continue to do so until these martinis claim what's left of me; If you have enough patience and perspective then he's worth every minute of frustration."

Unconditionally. The word triggered something in Kyle, something that made his heart flutter reminiscently and smile with the twinge of an intangible memory.

"Do you understand?" Liane asked, her stare lilting and Kyle felt privileged.

"Yes ma'am" Kyle replied, struck by his own plexus' reaction to the nature of this conversation. The words seemed distant but to Kyle they were loud and clear. He nodded with intent "I do"

Liane grinned proudly, the gleaming veneers of her teeth provided another perfect touch. She reassured herself with Kyle's words, inspected them with that motherly wisdom, to make sure they fitted just right. Soothed her just enough.

Taking another sip of her martini, Liane sighed, addressing no one in particular, not even her precious Martini "All I can really hope is that he's not wasting his time with someone who doesn't love him"

Kyle shifted in his seat anxiously, cringing. Was it such a crazy idea to entertain that Cartman might have casually mentioned the whole 'I love you' predicament to his mother during Liane's weekly phone calls? Kyle's feverish neurosis convinced him that her words almost sounded like an accusation. "But you're a wonderful young man, Kyle, and to be honest?"

Liane leaned forward and spoke softly, holding Kyle's gaze in the way a starlet would hold the focus of a camera "I'm glad that out of all the people in this world, Eric found you. Somebody who was there all along and slipped past him the first time but... Second chances, second meetings, they all seem to be greater than coincidences, don't you think?"

If being with Cartman and having the life he did was just a coincidence, then Kyle was going to have to put greater emphasis on those bad boys. But these three years and the events that illuminated them, were much greater than that. Kyle knew it. So he was inclined to agree and left to wonder what karmic forces were at work to ensure that he was, dare he say it, pretty damn happy with Eric Cartman.

"Totally" Kyle agreed.

* * *

Kyle hummed contently to himself in the shower, trying to determine the reaction of his first attempt at an "I love you". The speech itself was the only thing dampening his good mood and tenuous positive thinking. Kyle wondered how Cartman had come up with his speech? Did he fret and plan and prepare like this? Heartfelt as Cartman's words were, Kyle knew that a speech like that doesn't just conviently drop into your lap. Although he wished it did.

All Kyle had was a gesture. He hoped that was enough and hopefully in the blaze of the moment, manipulative passion would twist Kyle's words for him.

Kyle thought of Cartman in the living room, drinking a Bud, fascinated by the latest episode of Catfish, completely unaware that Kyle was finally going to give him what he had been wanting. Even, at last.

Kyle stepped out of the shower, forgoing the welcoming fluffiness of his Pottery Barn towels and instead reaching for one of Cartman's white shirts that he wore to work. Kyle had picked it out of their wardrobe discreetly. Kyle blushed as he breathed in the scent; cologne and fabric softener. It reminded him of the 'good days' Cartman would occasionally have at work, when he came home, singing cheesy ballads in Kyle's ear and pulling him into his embrace.

The sheer size of that damn shirt wasn't helping Kyle's ego in the slightest. Was he really that small and skinny? Or was Cartman that tall and, well, broad? He felt like a child swathed in white material and Kyle was sure that wasn't sexy at all. In an effort to look at least a tad sensual, Kyle rolled up the sleeves of the shirt and buttoned it in a way that was provocative and elusive, leaving something to the imagination. _Although it's nothing he hasn't seen before_ Kyle bit his lip and blushed at the thought.

It was fascinating to Kyle how flippant his neurotic, pedantic side could be. One minute he was obsessing over how to tell Cartman he loved him and how this inability to come up with ideas could mean that they weren't right for each other and what if he was just a person who was incapable of recognizing love and romance and how that meant he could possibly end up alone and then the next minute he was fervently debating how to button up his shirt in a way that was coy and suggestive.

He finally settled on doing up five of the eight buttons, revealing his gleaming chest and barely covering his junk (he had hitched up the shirt just enough so his thighs were getting the attention they deserved but everything else remained covered).

Kyle couldn't help but smirk and roll his eyes at the mirror. He looked ridiculous. But Cartman liked how Kyle looked when he borrowed one of his football or hockey jerseys and Kyle could only hope his current look had the same appeal.

Cartman couldn't tell you why he was watching Catfish. After watching about six episodes, you kinda get how it's gonna turn out. Still, that Nev guy is hot, Cartman reasoned and any TV show is worth watching when you have a six pack of Bud next to you.

"Whatcha doin' cowboy?" Kyle asks, his index finger gently teasing his lip, water dripping from his soaked curls and cool water glistened on his skin. The damp material of the oversized shirt stuck to Kyle's frame, becoming transparent as he leaned against the door nonchalantly.

"Nothing" Cartman chokes on the word as it gets swallowed up by the sordid inferno Kyle has created. Fuck TV. Fuck Budweisers. Cartman drinks Kyle in, his arousal stirring, a palpable, familiar heat straining his sweats.

Kyle felt himself tremble as Cartman stared breathlessly at him, he wasn't afraid, it was just that overwhelming realization that he had the upper hand. Being with Cartman made Kyle see how much he craved it.

A sick, violent shade of white wrapped around Cartman's knuckles as he balled his fists, biting his tongue and tasting copper as his hooded eyes hooked themselves on Kyle. He didn't want to speak. He just wanted to grab Kyle and devour him, every rough drag of fingers across Kyle's skin would let them both know who Kyle belonged to.

Kyle felt that he had left Cartman dangling long enough and besides, although the look of impatience and dominance Cartman was sporting was making Kyle weak, Kyle desperately wanted him.

Kyle silently made his way over to Cartman, the both of them reflecting contagious, knowing smiles. Cartman swallowed as Kyle straddled him, a shine of vulnerability in his eyes that Kyle ravished immediately. They breathed shallow, moist breaths, their eyes darkening as they melded together. Pure, virginal excitement sizzled, alive and electric between them and it was almost amusing.

"Holy shit" Cartman gasps, their eyelashes, noses, lips brushing together. They swallowed each other's thumping heartbeats, dizzying.

Kyle leans in an excruciating inch further until all he can sense are colors, pulses, chemistry and humidity, he can feel Cartman swallow and shiver, his breath becoming ragged as he tastes the space that Kyle inhabits.

Eyes finally meet, soft and wonderful and Kyle's trembling fingers hesitate over a lock of Cartman's hair, he tucks it behind his ear before his hand trails down and captures his heartbeat. Kyle's grip on Cartman's chest tightens as a welcomed pair of lips collide with his mouth and as a talented tongue licks him open, Kyle's fingers sigh and soften.

They sighed and whimpered through their feverish kisses and after a frenzied few minutes, Cartman's kiss-swollen lips left the plush, honeyed nirvana of Kyle's and instead trailed down Kyle's glistening neck, he growled approvingly at Kyle's moans as he sucked, bit and licked the sultry skin.

Kyle whimpered and mewled as Cartman tore into him mercilessly. He slowly began to unbutton the shirt (much to Cartman's delight) Greedily indulging in Cartman's appetite for him. Kyle cringed at the sheen of pre-cum on his dick and the heaviness of his balls. He began to wonder when the heat of the moment would save him, enlighten him with brilliant, passionate words, he feared they may never arrive at all, his thoughts too clouded with kisses, lust and Cartman.

Cartman bucked his hips and groaned at Kyle's submission and heavenly, silky cries. With every bite and searing kiss, with every unpopped button Cartman imagined spreading Kyle, working him with his mouth until he manipulated Kyle to do the same, they'd fuck, deep and fast until the sweat cooled itself and Cartman would kiss Kyle's bruised lips as Kyle lay beside him, defeated.

Cartman's impatient hands lifted up Kyle's shirt, traveling up Kyle's thighs and squeezing his ass. Kyle whimpered hotly and furrowed his eyebrows as Cartman smacked him. Kyle found Cartman's mouth once again, biting his lower lip as Cartman gasped.

"Wait" Kyle panted mindlessly, suddenly remembering his plan, somewhere in between Cartman grabbing his ass, hungrily reaching out for another lusty kiss and grinding shamelessly on Cartman's lap, Kyle remembered why exactly he was wearing one of Cartman's shirts in the first place.

"What?" Cartman growled, his eyes effortlessly intense as they met Kyle's.

"I love you" Kyle replied simply. He cupped Cartman's beautiful, surprised face and Kyle couldn't help but laugh to himself at Cartman's unsure smile. "I, I love you, Cartman."

"With all my heart" Kyle added lowly, sincerely as he crushed his flushed lips with Cartman's, who gladly reciprocated. Kyle squeezed his eyes shut with joy and he ignored the weightless, elated fluttering of his heart. He feared if he paid any attention to it he may cry and he didn't need any unnecessary waterworks.

There was silence after that, the embers of ecstasy lingering and begging to be lit up once more. Cartman stared at Kyle with infatuated eyes and Kyle knew that his own gaze probably suggested an emotion similar.

Then, Cartman finally spoke; "You're not quite there, Jewboy"

"What?!" Kyle yells, jumping up and he knows this uncomfortable heat that's invading him isn't related to lust, it's fucking rage and anger and, in Kyle's opinion, fucking injustice too. "Are you fucking serious?!"

Cartman nods pompously and Kyle wants nothing more than to punch him in the fucking mouth.

"But I don't get it!" Kyle whines, stamping his foot on the floor "We were in the moment and it was hot, and, and I made a gesture, right? And you wanted a gesture didn't you? I was being provocative, God damn it!"

Kyle pauses to run a frustrated hand through his hair before pointing out "Look at you! You've got a fucking boner!" Although Kyle wasn't exactly in a different position.

"Kahl" Cartman begins, grabbing hold of Kyle's wrist and soothingly running his thumb along Kyle's pulse "You don't have to seduce me or show me how sexy you are. I know you're sexy. Whenever I look at you I can see how effortlessly beautiful you are. You don't need to try at all, most people would kill for that."

Kyle sighed and asked irritably, as he buttoned up his shirt, feeling like a jackass "So what else do I have to do?"

"Talk to me" Cartman replies. "You've always been good at expressing yourself, when we were kids you and Stan would give those stupid, moral speeches about what you've learned or some shit."

Kyle squirms and fidgets uncomfortably, even if he's good at expressing himself and giving speeches, this was a more personal, intimate matter and Kyle didn't know if he could swallow his pride and give in to that side of himself.

"Think about it some more, okay?" Cartman attempts to reassure him "Just say what you really feel. And make it special. That's all I want."

"You're not making this easier at all" Kyle replies wryly, smiling and rolling his eyes in tense exasperation.

"I never wanted to make it easy" Cartman laughs "What's the point in that?"

* * *

Kyle had left for school before Cartman could wake up. He had thrown on the infamous white shirt from the previous night, crumpled on the bedroom floor from when Kyle had squirmed out of it in anger. It still felt damp, the scent of cologne and the lusty undertones of sweat still lingered.

Kyle liked having the apartment to himself, padding around softly in one of Cartman's shirts, drinking coffee in silence and thinking. He perused his dog-eared Pottery Barn catalog with deflated interest, circling the numerous coffee rings and pondering his feelings for Cartman like they were a dreamy, saccharine fantasy. Which felt nice since lately he had been so intensely scrutinizing their relationship.

It was all so simple. That's the frustrating part, Kyle thought. Cartman wasn't being too demanding, just picky and specific about something that should have come so God damn easy. Kyle hated that, call him arrogant but he thought something so clear and obvious wouldn't phase him at all. But it did, God damn, it did. Love. Something Kyle felt in heady, passionate droves whenever Cartman touched him or allowed his attention to encompass two people instead of one. But it was just so hard to verbalize, to think about what it all meant.

Kyle didn't look at Cartman as he was getting dressed for school, vowing to not think about him for the rest of the day.

Four hours later and he was sat in the library, laxly writing his essay (which he prayed he would have an extension on) and his thoughts led back to Cartman.

Tightly wound, asphyxiating thoughts of what to say were wedged with a calming, nostalgic tide of half-memories, dispersed in the middle ground of fact or tangible fiction and they shimmered like sunken pearls in Kyle's chest.

_Maybe_

It was the little things that Kyle hadn't thought about for years, experiences that him and Cartman had shared, experiences that had shaped each other and Kyle can't quite believe that they belong to him.

One thought really stings, shakes Kyle's breath for a second before he gets lulled into security by familiar digits. Smaller and chubbier and more forceful and rough in their movements over his once innocent, gentle form. A glimmer of ridiculous gold and salt splashes on his skin as loss penetrates the unmistakable voice that had previously spat and sneered words at him. Even now Kyle can feel himself choke as he is forced back to life and being told to "Breathe easy" as the voice wavers once again. Kyle listened to him, disorientated but grateful and mindlessly conforming to the talentless human instinct to survive. But he knew who was keeping him here, who had been fighting unabashedly for him.

Kyle looked around the library then, hoping nobody was watching. He was visibly trembling and people could easily assume that he was having a panic attack. Kyle had never had one of those but he figured that they too could feel this unsettling, but he doubted they made you feel this grateful or humble.

Kyle cringed, pressed his wrist to his misty eyes and let his accelerated heartbeat whirl around his head.

A drunken Kenny had pulled up a chair next to Kyle at prom, feeling pity and annoyance at his friend who was just watching couples dance like a voyeur, fascinated and alone. Kenny didn't dance. He skipped all that romantic crap and went straight to the boys' locker room or the girls' bathroom with his chosen lady. "I think somebody wants to dance with you..." Kenny teased, slightly slurred in Kyle's ear. Kyle squirmed at Kenny's moist, beer-stained breath and glanced over at who Kenny was so subtly referring to. An equally lonely Eric Cartman who had danced with Heidi Turner and was declining all over offers, except, he regrettably said to Kenny, a certain Jew. After looking a second too long, Kyle shook his head and furiously rejected Kenny's suggestion, Kyle burned with shame at the thought of even considering it.

That consideration was just as impulsive as the moment Kyle shouted Cartman's name as he ran out into a group of supposed talent agents' hail of bullets. Difference is, Kyle didn't really regret that. Because if Cartman did get shot by those gangsters then at least Kyle's voice would be the last voice he heard over the thunderous bullets.

At least I would still have a little piece of him, Kyle thought morbidly but still smiled at the ribbon of flesh, just above his hip, identical to Cartman's.

Just like their smiles. Identical, mutual and thankfully reciprocated as they realized that hanging out with each other wasn't so bad. Hugging each other wasn't so bad either when they were sure that they were alone and Kyle smiled sadly at Cartman's vows to find a cure, hesitant to touch him but secretly glad that he did.

He would've given anything to touch Cartman in that moment. Whether it was to brace him or punch him or grab him possessively. When he was fourteen and Cartman was arguing fervently with Wendy instead of him and she was actually encouraging it, smiling with that careful, glossy upper hand that girls hold when they flirt. _Flirt. _Like fighting with Cartman meant so little! It was jealousy, Kyle realized begrudgingly, retching at the very idea, that was making him crazy. _He's mine _and he knew Cartman would vouch for that.

Kyle wondered whether it was the same craziness, the same coarse affection that made him sleepless, that made him cut a whimpering, frightened looking Cartman from his chains and take him home. Tucking him into bed and giving him his blanket. Kyle never said anything but he felt the blanket was enough and whenever he saw it, strewn across Cartman's bed or couch, Kyle felt that much-scolded and illicit fondness for Cartman swell.

What was that song? That Cartman sung and that made Kyle wince and prickle? Kyle didn't want to believe in the lyrics, that Cartman actually meant those words that he was singing so... intentionally? Sincerely, even? Maybe he's that good of an actor, Kyle thought but he wanted neither option to be true. Not really. But Kyle respected logic, formulas, paradigms and in a world of reasoning and rationality, Kyle knew this one law of nature to be true; The more Cartman made Kyle hate him, the more Kyle had to love him. Oh, that's right "I swear". Kyle hated that song for years. Now, he just laughed and cringed (on his and Cartman's behalf).

There's a strong possibility that could be our song, Kyle thought despairingly and laughed under his breath. Sometimes he caught Cartman humming it to himself and whenever Kyle heard it (usually as a radio request from some teenagers at the mercy of puppy love or at the mall during Valentines day) he couldn't help but flush, grin goofily and think of Cartman.

Kyle grabbed his pen, startled by this sudden surge of inspiration.

Quietly humming to himself, Kyle began to make notes on the inside cover of his copy of "Corporate Finance: Principals and Practice"

* * *

It took a month to plan.

Breathless, tear-filled, ecstatic minutes to write. For Kyle to spill more of himself on the page than he meant to.

But he's worth it, Kyle reasoned, he's fucking worth it.

The rest? Well, to Kyle, it felt like icing.

* * *

Although he had barely mentioned it to Kyle, Cartman noticed that it had been weeks since Kyle's last attempt at an "I love you". Maybe I'm being too hard on him, Cartman thought, too picky. That never used to seem like a bad thing, but Cartman was growing impatient and stupidly concerned about Kyle.

He tried his best not to panic or get worked up, but it was difficult. Nothing had changed; him and Kyle were great, they had ordered a new dresser from Pottery Barn and Cartman had been booked for two shit jobs. A wedding and a dog pageant. Cartman hated dogs more than he hated brides.

The vapid absurdity of taking pictures of Pomeranians dressed as ballerinas, firemen and a plethora of other ridiculous costumes with their giddy owners, allowed Cartman to contemplate his situation with his significant other. He was always too arrogant to assume that Kyle didn't love him, but now the idea terrified him. Kyle could leave him a post-it note on the fridge saying "I love you, fatass" and it would be enough. Sure, a beautiful location or a sweeping, dramatic speech would've been super, but Cartman realized he didn't need to romanticize something that he had known all along.

So hearing the soft, syrupy weeping of violins as he approached his apartment was... Unsettling. Very, very unsettling.

And opening the door and seeing Kyle standing triumphantly in the dimmed living room, petals scattered everywhere and a fucking string quartet playing a familiar song, had left Cartman speechless.

"Kahl" Cartman shakily whispered, wide, golden eyes studying the room with an expression of uncontrollable surprise and barely-contained excitement. "What the Hell is going on? What's with the roses? And the vio-"

"They're red tulips, actually" Kyle grins "This is it, loverboy. My big gesture. You ready?"

_I Swear_ Cartman recognized the melody _God damn it, Kahl_ Cartman smiled contently and sighed "Sure"

Cartman could see the slight crumble in Kyle's resolve, where victorious cockiness was replaced with sobering nervousness. Kyle gasped and trembled as he reached into his pants' pocket and pulled out a scrumpled, much scrutinized piece of paper.

Kyle swallowed, fingers quivering as he looked up at Cartman, the antidote for his anxiety. Just one look at that overwhelmed smile and shimmering eyes and Kyle grinned defiantly, still nervous as Hell but undoubtedly sure.

"Cartman" Kyle began quietly before clearing his throat and continuing a little louder "First of all, I want to apologize. Hearing you tell me that you love me, was one of the greatest moments I have ever shared with you and I think about it more than I would care to admit. I know that I've been disobliging and difficult about the whole thing, but that's just because the thought of explaining all my feelings is scary and overwhelming in the best possible way. Just like you, I wanted it to be perfect and right and in a way that would make you smile." Kyle paused then, smirking at Cartman "Like you are right now, I guess... I tried to think of why I love you or how I love you, I tried to figure out how we ended up together, but the truth is, there are so many reasons and they're all so hard to pinpoint. To me, every moment we've had over the lifetime we've known each other, hated each other and loved each other, mean so much to me that it would be wrong and completely illogical for me to say 'That was it. That was the one, defining moment'. Twenty two years is a long time to love somebody. But we have. Even if at the time, we were too young or proud to notice it. Every stupid fight we had when we were kids made me want to be closer to you, every plan that backfired on you, I wanted to be there to pick you up and teach you a lesson and try to get through to you that I cared, even if it was from a distance. Maybe I took you for granted, because it wasn't until I had to save you did I realize how much you meant to me. And the trouble I was in. But I vowed to take care of you, to protect you, because I felt something so deep for you, that I couldn't even begin to understand. And I know that you would do the same for me, because even if we did, well, do, drive each other crazy, it would hurt too much to walk away from each other or lose each other without putting up a fight. I'd like to think I'm a logical, rational person when I'm not totally neurotic, but your mom said to me that us finding each other, having a second chance, was greater than coincidence. And when I think of how happy you make me, how imperfectly wonderful you are and how inexplicably great we are together, it makes me wonder if we actually were meant to be together. If some higher force mapped things out for us, if every moment we spent together was leading to this, then I'm gonna have to become less of a skeptic. Because I'm fucking glad that if soulmates do exist, you're mine. Even though you're the biggest sociopath I've ever met and you have issues and are totally fucked up, I know that you're amazing, beautiful, vulnerable and the best kind of different there is. And I need that, for the rest of my life. I love you."

Cartman bites his lip and cringes at the hot tears pricking his eyes. But he smiles, wide and proud "I love you too, Kahl"

Kyle drops his speech among the petals and throws his arms around Cartman's neck, their tear-stained smiles meeting in a passionate kiss. Mouths trembling, faces becoming wet and eyes shut tightly, in the hope that the swollen melody will never die, the memories that explode like fireworks will never vanish and Cartman and Kyle will never be without each other.

Kyle giggles as Cartman's arms wrap around his waist and lift him off the ground, the both of them hoping that they feel the same desperate need to hold onto each other forever and never let each other go.

"You know, if you put me down, we can dance..." Kyle murmurs, lidded eyes lost in twin pools of gold.

"Are you sure?" Cartman teases, biting Kyle's soft, plush lip "With your startling lack of rhythm?"

Kyle rolls his eyes and smiles playfully "I guess you'll have to lead, won't you?"

Cartman grins, setting Kyle down but his hands never leave Kyle's body.

So the two danced, swaying softly and slowly to a song that they both used to hate, but now cherished and loved. Maybe they always did? Their damp eyes seemed like bottomless stars that only shone for one and other and with their hearts singing love letters, their bodies so temptingly close and their eyes lost in other, personal galaxies, it was easy to forget that a string quartet was in their living room. Cartman and Kyle blushed and cringed when they caught sight of a violinist or the cellist, concentrating on their sheet music.

"Why did you get them to play this stupid song?" Cartman laughed, his fingers gently running up and down Kyle's back.

Kyle smiled, pressed his forehead to Cartman's and answered honestly "Because it reminds me of the first time you ever told me you loved me"

**The End**


End file.
